


The Chauffeur

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Car Sex, Film Noir, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:51:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14172216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: Mycroft's chauffeur has many responsibilities. First and foremost, they must be discreet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written after viewing Duran Duran's video for their song "The Chauffeur". I thought the video was rather "noir-ish" and wanted to incorporate Mystrade into it somehow. The second chapter was the first ficlet I wrote for this song, but didn't think it was lascivious enough for the video. But I included it here for another take on their chauffeur.

The chauffeur sat in the idling car, waiting for Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade to exit the lift in the parking garage. They had only driven for Mr. Holmes a handful of times. The regular driver was indisposed and would be unavailable for an undetermined amount of time. The assignment was straightforward. Provide transport and security to one of the most powerful men in Britain and his partner. And do it with the utmost of discretion. The job was coveted by many, and the chauffeur felt honored to be trusted with the task.

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Lestrade disembarked from the lift and made their way to the car. They were walking in step with one another, coat sleeves and hands occasionally brushing. The door opened, infusing the car with a rush of cold, damp air. Upon entering the car, Greg nodded his greeting while Mr. Holmes provided an address.

The chauffeur pressed the control closing the privacy glass between the seats. Although the partition was raised, mumbled bits of conversation could be heard. The passengers' shadowed silhouettes were visible in the rearview mirror. One leaned towards the other, blending the two shapes into one. 

The drive through the London streets was unremarkable. Traffic was light this time of night. A light, steady rain peppered the windshield, rivulets of water following the path of gravity before being intercepted by the intermitent sweep of the wipers. The distorted glow from the street lights above lit the interior of the car in recurrent pulses of light. 

XXXXX

Upon arriving at the designated address, both rear seat occupants alighted from the car. Mr Holmes murmured "Wait here", before closing the door with a solid click. The chauffeur watched them enter a non descript brick building. Any light inside was blocked by heavy, dark curtains covering the windows. They were close to the Thames, the pungent river smell wafting through the car vents. The rain kept falling, steadily drumming on the car roof. 

After a time, Mr. Holmes and the Detective Inspector made their way back out to the car. They entered quietly, but something had transpired between them in the time they were gone. The air in the car was charged, but the chauffeur couldn't ascertain what had changed. 

"Home please," instructed Mr. Holmes.

"Yes, sir." The button was pressed to close the partition for the return trip. However, it jammed about two inches from closing properly. The chauffeur looked in the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Mr. Lestrade. Who smirked, before leaning towards Mr. Holmes and covering his lips with his own, cradling his head with his hand.

The chauffeur dragged their gaze away, but could not escape the erotic sounds coming from the back seat of the car. It took all their concentration to focus on the road and not pay attention to what was going on in the seat behind them. Every once in a while there was a gasp, or a sharp inhale. There was the faint sounds of soft kisses, the sounds of more forceful frenching, with panting and sighs. Murmured voices, declarations of lust and love. The unmistakable sounds of hands grasping on the leather seats for purchase. Feet trying to find footing on the carpeted floor. Flesh meeting flesh. The noises were arousing, and the chauffeur could feel a growing dampness between their legs. They kept both hands on the wheel, but longed to reach between their legs to satisfy a growing need.

They returned to the car park, and the chauffeur pulled up near the lift.

"I hope I can count on your sagacity as it involves my personal matters," implored Mr. Holmes, with a tone of voice that indicated he was accustomed to be obeyed.

"Of course, sir," the chauffeur responded. 

Mycroft nodded. "Good night then."

"Goodnight sirs."

The chauffeur watched as the two figures made their way across the car park, side by side, walking a little slower, a little closer, then disappearing into the lift which would carry them on to their next tryst of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex sat in the idling car, waiting for Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade to exit their residence. She had only driven for Mr. Holmes a handful of times. George, Mr. Holmes' regular driver, was caring for his ill mother in Leeds and would be unavailable for an undetermined amount of time. So Alex was tasked with taking George's place. She was a little nervous. Mr. Holmes (she couldn't think of him as Mycroft, lest she slip and actually call him by his given name) had a reputation for being a no nonsense supervisor, not one for small talk, but fair and respectful of his support staff. Alex was relatively new to MI 5, and realized this position was a stepping stone to greater things. Driving for, and protecting one of the most powerful men in Britain was not a trivial task. Alex intended to make the most of her opportunity. She'd discreetly observe, listen and learn what it takes to be a respected power player in the British Government. 

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Lestrade exited their home and made their way to the car. Alex had only met Mr. Lestrade ("It's Greg" he had said), once before. Relaxed, laid back. Everything Mr. Holmes wasn't. But Alex could see a difference in Mr. Holmes' demeanor when "Greg" was with him. He certainly smiled more. His shoulders weren't as stiff, his posture a little looser. She would certainly never gossip about her observations with anyone, but she felt privileged to see this side of "The Iceman" that she surmised few others had seen. 

Upon entering the car, Greg nodded his greeting while Mr. Holmes nodded, "Ms. Kariya". 

"Good evening, Mr. Holmes. Where are we off to tonight?"

"Marcus", he replied. "Reservations are for seven."

"Yes sir. Partition up or down sir?"

"Up is fine."

Alex pressed the button closing the privacy glass between the seats. Although the partition was raised, Alex could still hear mumbled bits of conversation, especially the louder laughter of Greg. She could also see their shadowed silhouettes in the rearview mirror. Smiling, she turned her attention away from what was going on behind her to what was going on in front of her and made her way through London traffic to the restaurant. They arrived at their destination with time to spare. Mr. Holmes dismissed Alex and told her he would call when they were finished.

XXXXX

Alex got a text to return to the restaurant about three hours later. She could tell Mr. Holmes and Greg had imbibed on some spirits during their meal. Greg was even more handsy than usual, and Mr. Holmes seemed more comfortable with the public displays of affection. Greg stumbled into the car, laughing, Mr. Holmes following closely behind. Alex caught a glimpse of Mr. Holmes with his hands cupping the Detective Inspector's ass before turning her face quickly away. 

"Home please, Ms. Kariya."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes." Alex went to close the partition, only to find it jam about two inches from closing properly. She kept fiddling with the switch but it just wouldn't budge. Great. She could feel her cheeks starting to flush. They never taught you how to deal with faulty privacy screens in Secret Service training.

"Um, sir? It seems the partition is stuck. I can't get it to close any more. I'll have to take it to the motor pool tomorrow."

"No worries," she heard Greg say. "Mycroft should be able to restrain himself from shagging me until we get home." Then he started to giggle. Yes, they definitely had some drinks tonight. 

"Gregory! " Mr. Holmes admonished. Then he began giggling too. 

Alex tried hard to focus on the road and not pay attention to what was going on in the seat behind her. This was better entertainment than watching some romance flick on the telly at home! Every once in a while she heard a gasp, or a sharp inhale. She heard barely there sounds of soft kisses, the sounds of more forceful kisses, panting and sighs. Murmured voices, declarations of love. Hands grasping on the seats for purchase. Feet trying to find footing on the floor. The noises were distracting. But she was a professional. A bit jealous of the relationship between these two wickedly attractive men and itching to sneak a peek for a better show. But still a professional. 

She got her charges home safe and sound before things got too carried away in the back seat (she thought). Mr. Holmes was trying to adjust his shirt and tie when she glanced back in the mirror.

"I hope I can count on your discretion as it involves my personal matters," implored Mr. Holmes. 

"Of course, sir," Alex responded. 

Mycroft nodded. "Have a good night then, Ms. Kariya."

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes. Mr. Lestrade."

"See ya Alex!" waved Greg. Mr. Holmes pinched Greg on the ass, causing him to jump with a startled " Ow! " and bustled him through the front door. Alex drove away shaking her head, and decided that the British Government looked to be in good hands tonight. Smiling to herself, she realized this assignment was going to be better than she thought.


End file.
